* to prevent their getting into bad company,

* to introduce them into all the exciting meetings,

* to see that their ardent patriotism quickly rises to the proper
temperature of Parisian Jacobinism.[29]

The theaters must not offend their eyes or ears with pieces "opposed
to the spirit of the Revolution."[30] An order is issued for the
performance three times a week of "republican tragedies, such as
'Brutus', 'William Tell', 'Caius Gracchus,' and other dramas suitable
for the maintenance of the principles of equality and liberty." Once a
week the theaters must be free, when Chéniér's alexandrines are
spouted on the stage to the edification of the delegates, crowded into
the boxes at the expense of the State. The following morning, led in
groups into the tribunes of the Convention,[31] they there find the
same, classic, simple, declamatory, sanguinary tragedy, except that
the latter is not feigned but real, and the tirades are in prose
instead of in verse. Surrounded by paid yappers like victims for the
ancient Romans celebrations of purifications, our provincials applaud,
cheer and get excited, the same as on the night before at the signal
given by the claqueurs and the regulars. Another day, the procureur-
syndic Lhullier summons them to attend the "Evéché," to "fraternize
with the authorities of the Paris department;"[32] the "Fraternité"
section invites them to its daily meetings; the Jacobin club lends
them its vast hall in the morning and admits them to its sessions in
the evening. -- Thus monopolized and kept, as in a diving bell, they
breathe in Paris nothing but a Jacobin atmosphere; from one Jacobin
den to another, as they are led about in this heated atmosphere, their
pulse beats more rapidly. Many of them, who, on their arrival, were